


cannons ablazing shower these moonlit skies

by Lire_Casander



Series: nothing ever goes the right way [4]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Accidents, Angst, Blood, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pinned Down By The Wreckage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26678509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: they’re out like a family, the 126 firefighter family, until, all of a sudden, they’reclearlynot.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: nothing ever goes the right way [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943992
Comments: 11
Kudos: 118





	cannons ablazing shower these moonlit skies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oleanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oleanna/gifts).



> written for [tarlosweek2020](https://tarlosweek2020.tumblr.com/), **_day 4: colors + tarlos & own + fun_**
> 
> written for [Oleanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oleanna) who asked for **_pinned down by wreckage with tk and owen/firefam feels_** from my [bad things happen bingo card](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/626174763915722752/welcome-to-my-very-own-bad-things-happen-bingo)
> 
> beta’ed by [meloingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloingly/pseuds/meloingly). any remaining mistakes are my own
> 
> title from _This Time Around_ by Hanson

The Austin fair is in full capacity when TK and Owen arrive, getting out of their Uber ride under the lights of the Ferris Wheel and the sounds of people merrily enjoying the prizes won at the different stands.

“This is so different from New York,” TK exclaims as he looks around, awed by the music and the people and the place. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone anywhere like this fair.”

“Not even Chelsea Piers?” his father asks, amused. “I remember you loved the attractions when you were little.”

“I don’t think I’ve been to Chelsea Piers since I was eight, dad,” TK confesses. “I didn’t want to go without you, after the divorce.”

Owen looks at him aghast. “You never said anything! We could have gone together, anytime.”

TK sighs, rubbing a hand on his eyes before replying. He tries to free his voice off any bitterness — he’s an adult now after all, he should be past those petty infantile things by now — but he can’t help the tired whine that tinges his words as he speaks, “You were never around, after. It’s okay, dad, I’m well over it,” he continues when he sees his father looking down at his words.

They’re doing better these days — they’ve been working hard on getting over the past that has shaped them both into the men they are now. TK has already forgiven his father for his absence after the towers collapsed, even if from time to time a longing for what could have been somehow finds its way into his heart, because he now understands what it’s like to belong to a chosen family. Back in New York, back within the 252, he had never felt part of it — he’d always been his father’s son — another Strand to fall into step and feed the legend started one fateful morning no one ever wanted to have lived through. With the 126, TK has found he is much more than another man in his family lineage — he’s a person worth loving for _who_ he is, not for his last name. He’s part of something bigger, something he’s chosen for himself. He’d die for any of them, the same way they’d die for him.

He now understands his father, but the kid inside himself still complains from time to time about the missed childhood opportunities, about the pain he endured whenever he needed his father and Owen wasn’t there.

“See, Marjan’s there!” he says, signaling at a spot on the waiting line for the Ferris Wheel, where his teammate is licking remnants of cotton candy off her fingers. “And Mateo!”

Owen snickers. “Go, go, have fun!”

“Oh, no,” TK pushes him forward. “This is your moment too. We’re celebrating your remission. Come along, they’re also waiting for you!”

TK knows his father has wanted to keep to himself the worst of his treatment — the fears and the pain and the side effects of a new medicine that has, eventually, been the one to break through — never sharing the brunt of it with anyone, not even his newfound family. The 126 has never been anything but supportive, but Owen Strand has shied away from them in the moments of pain. He didn’t want to burden them with the grief that comes with this kind of fight, he’d once told TK during one of their long nights up, riding out the effects of a chemo session that proved too strong to be held in by his body — he hadn’t wanted anyone to come along this journey. TK had told him that he wasn’t alone, as much as he’d tried to keep everyone at an arm’s distance; he’d assured his father that neither of them was alone in this quest to survive. TK knows how hard it is to trust someone with his life — he’s done it before and it went to hell as fast as it could. Both he and his father have trouble trusting people, but the firefighters and EMTs at the 126 aren’t _people_ — they’ve proven time and time again that they are family.

And family means no one gets left behind or forgotten. Ever.

When his father had come back from his latest appointment with some results in a closed envelope he didn’t want to open, TK had been there for him, urging him to read the news, good or bad, as well as Paul, Marjan, Mateo, and Judd — even if Paul had arched his left eyebrow at the sight, Marjan had touched her hijab nervously, Mateo had bit his nails and Judd had simply sat there, eyes piercing through Owen Strand as though he knew what was going through that mind.

Maybe he had been able to, because this group outing has been Judd’s idea. TK hadn’t believed it when Cowboy Judd — sturdy, rough, feeling-less Judd Ryder — had suggested the Austin Fair to celebrate that they had their captain back as healthy as he’d ever be. But it hadn’t been a bad idea, and now here they are, both Strand men, finding themselves among the throngs of people enjoying the colors whirlwind-ing around them.

 _It’s time to start enjoying these colors_ , TK thinks to himself, as he places one hand on his father’s arm.

Together, they walk towards the line, where they’re greeted by an excited Mateo and a laughing Marjan. They’re still halfway through the line; Marjan explains that they’ve come half an hour before and the line was already infernally long. She also tells them that Paul is somewhere winning a teddy bear for Grace, since Judd is unable to actually shoot anything for his life. 

“Who would have guessed that about Cowboy Judd?” TK jokes, stepping besides Mateo and snatching one of the candies he has in a plastic box. 

“Hey, those were mine! Go get some for yourself!” Mateo jabs back, but it's to no avail. TK munches on some jelly beans. 

“Don't tell me you're already stealing candies from the kids,” comes a voice TK has come to love endlessly in the months heʼs spent in Austin. Ignoring Mateoʼs protests that heʼs not a kid, TK turns around and smiles broadly at his boyfriend, walking toward them alongside a smug-looking Paul, a beaming Grace, and a sulking Judd. She is holding two stuffed animals in her hands, while Judd tries his best not to pout.

He’s failing.

“Carlos!” he calls out, waving at the group and stepping forward. He greets Carlos with a soft kiss on the lips. “I was wondering where you were.” 

“Making my life hell, that's where,” Judd mumbles. 

“Judd is just mad that he doesn’t have good aim,” Grace laughs. “I love you anyway, even if you can't win a teddy bear for me at the fair.”

TK laughs, echoing Graceʼs own laughter, as he hoops his fingers through Carlosʼ belt loops, making him get closer. “Did you win a teddy bear for Grace?” 

“No,” Carlos replies with conviction. 

“No?” TK teases with another soft smile. 

“Nope, I won a plush cow for Grace,” Carlos explains, moving his head toward the woman, who holds the toy up for everyone in their group to see. 

“But we have another surprise tonight,” Marjan speaks, looking up from her feigned attention to the cotton candy with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Buttercup!” she calls. 

TK steals a glance in his fatherʼs direction, not wanting to miss a single second of his reaction when the dog shows up along with Mateo, who had disappeared in between the jokes about Juddʼs aim. Owen looks taken aback at first, and then a tear dares to escape his eyes when he sees that Buttercup holds another plush toy in between his teeth — a blue and white cloud with the words _well done Cap_ embroidered on it.

“Weʼre all proud of you,” TK whispers to him, leaning in from his embrace with Carlos. “You did it, dad.”

Owen nods, speechless for the first time in a long while, taking the toy from Buttercupʼs mouth and holding it close to his chest. He laughs, a wet and broken sound, and it's all they need to initiate a group hug — Judd throwing his arm around Owenʼs shoulder, Mateo finding his natural place under Owenʼs own arm, and the rest fitting in an embrace that fills TKʼs heart with love. He knows Grace and Carlos arenʼt taking part in this display of affection for now, letting them have this bit of a moment for themselves, but he knows they will, soon. 

This moment is just for the firefam theyʼve built, one way or another. 

TK allows the colors to wash over him, sweeping up the pain and the doubts, replacing the gray — the black and white his life had become — with pinks and yellows and purples and reds; replacing the half-life he’d been leading with an existence full to the brim of love and mirth.

The colors turn to grey a few seconds later, as he’s stepping away from the group hug to seek for Carlos and kiss him, and his movement is aborted midway when a loud rumble interrupts the vivid noises of the fair and short-circuits the happiness around them. When he looks at the source of the noise, he sees one of the attractions — the one that looks like a boat flying from left to right, eliciting squeals of delight and terror from the kids riding it — vibrating under pressure, a whirring sound reaching his ears. 

“I don’t like how that sounds,” he manages to say out loud moments before the structure begins to shake. 

Everything happens so fast that TK doesn’t even have the time to register what they all are doing.

One moment they are all hugging his father, celebrating he’s healthy, and the next they are running towards a crumbling attraction, wishing, hoping, _praying_ to reach there in time before it falls down and destroys everything.

There are six kids on top of the attraction when it starts to fail, sitting in the boat that’s high up in the sky when the structure gives in, bending awkwardly at its hinges until the boat tilts. TK can see their faces — terrified at what’s going to happen if nobody gets close enough to take them out before the attraction loses its ground and collapses. Luckily for them, the 126 is around, and even though they aren’t geared up for the task, they’re quick enough to reach the attraction before it completely tumbles down.

Marjan is the first to reach the structure, hijab firmly in place, and she tries to calm the kids with soft words while she assesses the situation. TK and Judd follow up closely, arriving near one side of the attraction, hinges not so strongly nailed to the ground, while Paul and Mateo get close to the other side and gauge the situation of the metal.

“We need to get the kids out,” their Captain orders, hot on their heels. They work together as a team — the way they have been working for the past months — as Carlos and Grace try to control the Peeping Toms crowding the surroundings, even Buttercup barking at the masses to step backward. 

TK obeys orders better when he’s in the firefighter mind space rather than when he’s wearing civilian clothes, but given the circumstances, he slips into first responder mode as quick as he can and helps the children out of the attraction and into the welcoming arms of Grace, who’s trying her best to balance a cell phone sandwiched in between her shoulder and her face as she calls 911 and helps the kids to get away from the crumbling structure. Soon enough, there’s no one inside the attraction, and Judd is ushering him away from it when all hell breaks loose all of a sudden.

There’s a screeching that chases TK as he tries to run away from the metallic structure, but he isn’t fast enough. He stumbles on his own feet in his haste to get away, and he manages to push Judd away before falling face down on the ground, followed by the attraction and the inhuman crackey noise that accompanies the movement. For a second everything’s black and he feels blissfully safe, but the next thing he knows, there’s a searing pain eating him from his shoulders down, and it takes all he has to not scream in pain.

“TK!” he hears, distantly, as though he’s fallen miles away from the rest of the people he loves. There’s a pressure on his back — right on his scapula — that makes breathing hard, the pain is almost unbearable. And he’s been shot before, so he knows a bit about pain threshold. “TK, don’t move!”

He wants to laugh at the statement, cry out that he’s literally pinned down to the ground, but he finds out that his voice doesn’t really cooperate — he can’t make himself say a single word that’s not laced in a high-pitched sound that comes straight out of his throat. There are screams around him, and he can see the dust swirling as rushed footsteps move across the ground, both away from him and getting closer to where he lies.

“He’s still conscious,” he hears, Judd’s voice seeping through his dulled senses. “TK, can you hear me? Don’t move!” Judd instructs him when TK tries to nod. “Bro, you’ve been quite the hero today. But, uhm, there’s been a bit of a setback and the attraction has fallen down... on you. I’m sure you can feel it,” Judd whispers, nervous. TK wants to comfort him, tell him that everything will be fine in the end, but he remembers that Judd has told him not to move, and he can’t really speak, so he attempts a whine that comes out strangled. 

It leaves him breathless.

“Does anyone have an ETA on the house coming to the rescue?” he hears his father asking, voice clipped and sounding so far away. He hears more shuffling, and he sees what he thinks are Mateo’s shoes as they run around him. There are hands prodding at the metallic structure, as though weighing it down.

“Not soon enough,” Carlos replies. TK can see his feet moving in front of his waving gaze — the sneakers he gifted the cop for his birthday last month, the ones that took him nearly a week to find — and then Carlos is kneeling right beside him. “Ty, I’m here, do you hear me? You’re going to get out of there, I promise. You’ll be fine.”

“I—I know,” TK manages to cough out, a supreme effort since he can feel his lungs pinned down against the hard stony ground. “If only you could—could lift this up.”

“Don’t speak,” Carlos instructs him, but it sounds way less sharp than Judd’s words from before. “You’re carrying a ton on your shoulders, and that’s not a metaphor.”

TK keeps coughing. Now that he’s managed to speak, even if for a short-lived moment, he’s aware of the dust and the shit floating around at country fairs. He’s inhaling it all, along with his need to get out of this predicament. 

“I’m going to sue everyone in this fair,” he thinks he hears his father threatening at some point, but that could be the dizziness playing tricks on his psyche — he’s beginning to feel the lack of oxygen. Every breath is an ordeal, and he knows it won’t be long before he finally faints. If it happens before they free him from his metallic trap, TK’s aware that his father and Carlos — and probably the rest of the team — will freak out enough to make a scene. He wants to reassure them that he’ll be out in no time, in one piece, but he’s starting to think that maybe that won’t be the case.

Time stops making sense after that.

He falls in and out of conscience, and whenever he comes to, it’s to the worried sound of Carlos’ voice muttering encouraging words that seem directed to himself more than they are to TK. He can’t say how long he remains in that position, with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the terrifying knowledge that he might very well close his eyes one last time and never open them again if help doesn’t come soon.

There’s ruckus around him at one point, Carlos being pulled away and fighting quite violently to keep his place next to the fallen attraction, and all of a sudden there’s a hydraulic jack lifting the attraction — ever so _painfully_ slow — until he can breathe once again. TK knows the drill; they won’t lift it up in one go, the sudden lack of pressure could be just as bad as the pressure was, and since he’s been pinned down by the wreckage of at least a ton of metallic structure they can’t possibly know whether he’s bleeding externally — or internally.

They have to be careful, but he has never been known for being patient.

“Move, move, move!” he hears faintly, Michelle’s voice breaching through the myriad of noises clogging his head. “Tim, Nancy, come on, now’s not the time to be slow!”

He feels hands on his aching skin, barely touching him. Nobody is turning him around, too scared that there might be some side effects of enduring the falling of a fair attraction on his back, but he can hear Michelle’s soothing voice all the time as she checks him before deeming him fit to be lying on his back.

“Ev’rything hurts,” he mumbles. He isn’t sure his voice reaches them; when he looks at them, through half-lidded eyes, he sees Tim checking his vitals and Nancy handing Michelle a needle with some translucent liquid. “No painkillers,” he manages to say, clear enough for Michelle to look up from her hands to his face.

“Don’t worry, TK,” she reassures him. “It won’t compromise your sobriety. You can trust me.”

He wants to trust her, but he also knows himself. He can’t risk it — it’s not about sobriety, it’s about his own sins repeating themselves over and over again in his life. It’s about his own lack of self-restraint when it comes to substances. It’s about his own shame.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” he hears Carlos say, and when he opens his eyes just a fraction of an inch, he can see his boyfriend already kneeling back by his side. “Trust Michelle, she won’t give you anything to make you fall back into old habits.”

“I didn’t want—I didn’t want to say it out loud,” he braves out, voice thickly laced with pain. He feels the needle sticking through his skin, reaching his vein, and he wants to scream, but he’s suddenly too exhausted to speak.

“It’s okay, Ty,” Carlos smiles at him. “You’re in good hands. Just let go, okay? You can sleep now.”

“Donwanna,” he slurs, eyelids too heavy.

“I’ll be there when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

And TK lets go of his pain, embracing the numbness brought by the painkiller Michelle has administered him. Later, when the doctors discharge him after a few days in the hospital with a few broken ribs and a prescription to rest for at least seven days, he will admonish everyone for being so worried about him when he had been obviously fine — _fine my ass_ , Judd will say, brows furrowed in frustration, _fine under a shit ton of metal_ — and he will tease Carlos to no end — _the doctor said a whole week without sex but I think I’ll up it to two_ , his boyfriend will threaten him — but TK won’t be able to meet his father’s gaze.

Owen Strand’s eyes will hold all the pain caused by almost losing his only son three times in the same year, and TK won’t be capable of enduring the grief that his father will be undergoing.

But that’s a few hours from now, and for now, he’s content with Carlos’ hand in his, with Tim and Nancy placing him on a gurney under Michelle’s expert orders, his father petting his hair as he’s rolled away into an ambulance.

For now, he allows himself to fall into the welcoming hands of the painless numbness darkness provides.


End file.
